


pain (wont be for evermore)

by mmmargo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bisexual Fiona Gallagher, F/F, F/M, Hurt Ian Gallagher, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse, Princes & Princesses, Protective Fiona Gallagher, Protective Ian Gallagher, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Rating May Change, Running Away, Sexual Abuse, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmargo/pseuds/mmmargo
Summary: Mickey Milkovich is the Prince of the South Kingdom and next in line to be King. Ian is a noble knight trying to make the South Kingdom safer while looking for true love. Their paths cross and they are forced to make their own destiny.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first time writing for this fandom. I've had this idea for a while and I'm really excited to continue it. I hope I do these characters and this premise justice.

The sound of heels clanking against the hard floor fills the hollow halls and bounces of the cold stone walls. The sound grows louder and Mickey holds his breath, waiting until the horrible sound that wakes him everyday passes by the room and fades away. The warm morning light filters through the window and roughly peels Mickey’s eyes open. He blinks and shakes his head at the feeling of suddenly being woken. He pushes himself up on forearms until he’s leaning his back against the headboard of his bed. His skin feels cold and his throat feels dry but it’s nothing new. The morning always sneaks up on him and gives him a splitting headache. The clanking comes hurriedly back down the hall and Mickey tenses and prepares himself. The large door opens with a dull groan, scraping against Mickey’s ears and making him wince despite the knowledge it was going to happen. 

Through the door walks a small woman who holds herself high. Her long and thick black hair akin to her mother was pinned up in a braid and her sharp jaw was set. She cocked her hip and crossed her arms over her chest. The gown she was wearing was a silvery sheath that clung to her sides and draped against the floor, covering her high heel clad feet. The inherit feminine and classy nature of the dress clashed against the look on his sister's face. She looked angry and on edge. Mickey nodded at her and gave her a curt wave of his hand. 

He knows what today is, he doesn’t need someone to tell him. 

In the distance, he can hear bells and shouting. It makes his head ache more than before. His sister continues to stand there, her expression changes from anger to sympathy. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” She asks like she knows. Knows everything about Mickey, knows the secret he’s keeping. She doesn’t. No one does. All she knows is that he would rather throw himself into the sun than get married. 

“Don’t have a choice, do I, Amanda?” He asked with no real fight in his voice. Mandy rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath about just trying to be considerate before leaving. 

Mickey throws himself back onto his bed and lets out a sigh. He watches the ceiling for what feels like hours as he considers not leaving the comfort of his bed. He wonders if could get away with just forgetting about what he has to do. He wonders if his father would forget and everything would go back to how it was. He knew this would happen, he’s known since he was a child but he had always pushed it away until now. Today is the day that makes him want to throw up just by thinking about it. Today is the day he must find a wife. 

\---

Ian walks down the street as villagers bustle their way through the city, he stares wide-eyed up at the castle and towers. The gate has yet to open but civilians are gathered around it. Everyone dressed to a tee. Some catch his eye but that’s not why he’s here. He wanders throughout the city and follows a crowd. 

He isn’t sure where he is going but he is sure he doesn’t care. Today is the day, he was free to wander and watch with admiration as royals wed. He thought of how romantic it must be to be picked by someone world renown, by someone who would someday be king. He imagined it a thousand times, not that it would matter, his brother had told him it was just a silly dream. He was told to get his head out of the clouds and back down to earth where the rest of his family lived. It wasn’t that he actually thought he stood a chance, even if someone did want him, they would never be able to marry publicly. He had resigned himself to that fact and moved on with his life. Besides, just because no one wanted him publicly didn’t mean no one wanted him privately. He had been promised a dozen times by a dozen men that they would take him away and they could start new, go into hiding and be happy and content. Not that that interested Ian either, he didn’t want content, he wanted passion. And in his opinion, he can’t have both. 

(It was a game to fill the time at least. He had the attention, the admiration, and the love of older men. They cared for him and showered him with gifts and praise, which he took happily. What was the harm? He was old enough to make his own decisions.)

His little sister, Debbie, asked him if that was why he became a knight. She had been reading stories of brave knights who fell in love with princesses in towers and asked if that was what he wanted. When he explained that he wasn’t someone who wanted a princess in the way the storybooks said all knights did, she giggled and told him that maybe he could just save them instead. He liked that idea. 

Saving, protecting the innocent and defending the city. There was crime everywhere, no matter where you looked there seemed to be something shady happening there. This was the South Kingdom after all, it lived up to its name and he wanted to make it safer for everyone. To that, his older brother started calling him Ian the Noble. Ian lied when he said hated the nickname. 

As Ian was deep in thought, the crowd he had been following stopped and gasped in wonder. A carriage pulled by two horses pulled up and stopped in front of the large castle. The doors opened and the crowd waited with halted breath as two knights dressed similarly to his own armor he bore at the moment walked out and stood beside the door. Then stepped out a woman. She was tall and red-headed, also like him, her nose was curved and her eyebrows arched sharply. She turned toward the crowds of people now swarming the area she stood, careful not to get too close, her lips turned upward into an incredibly warm yet incredibly fake smile. The crowd seemed to buy it though. Her dress was a long white mermaid cut with stitched in patterns of dotted flowers wrapping around her torso and chest. Over the dress was a cape, also white- god, did she already come from a wedding- with poof of fluff around the edges. Around her neck was a gold necklace that held a small pendant that Ian couldn’t quite get a good look at. 

She was gorgeous. He felt a jealous pang in his stomach at how beautiful her life must be, how large and expansive her house must be if she would ride a carriage here just to be picked by the prince. Though, people have done more for less in the ceremony. 

He was too young to remember the last one but Fiona, his oldest sister, had told him what she remembered of the story of the last ceremony. She told it so eloquently, like it was a love story. When King Terence was young and still a prince, he needed to choose in the ceremony. Before he was allowed to take the throne, he needed to find a wife. Ian always thought that tradition was outdated, why would he need a spouse to become King? Why did it have to be a wife? Fiona explained to him that they needed to produce an heir which only confused Ian more. Prince Terence searched for the perfect wife, that time his younger sister would have an interjection to comment on what made a wife perfect but Fiona would wave her off and continue. Terence was at the ball, where the royal next in line for the throne would choose his wife, when he met her, Queen Viviene. Fiona said that they locked eyes across the room and danced and talked all evening. That it was love at first sight. They married at once and had children, many, many, children. They lived happily ever after, until one night, the Queen got sick and as the days past, she got sicker and sicker. She never came out of the castle and one dark and cold winter’s evening, she passed. King Terence was so beside himself with grief that he was rarely seen either, he just spent his days inside the castle, mourning his loss.

When Ian was a kid and Fiona would tell the story, he would always get sad. Not so much for the King as the children though. She would tell him that it was sad for them but that’s not the point of the story. Ian would ask what the point was and Fiona would tell him that she hoped he never would find out. Even after that ominous message, he continued thinking about the kids. He knew the names of all the royal children, he had to as a knight. Though he had never served beside the King, he had always longed to guard one of the princes or the princess. There was Prince Collins, Prince James, Prince Igor, Prince Mikhailo, and finally Princess Amanda. There was more to the royal family than just those children though but the list is long and expansive. 

The first prince was not seen as fit to be leader therefore he was cast aside and never had a ceremony. The second prince had died in battle before he ever could be considered for the throne. The third prince was odd since he had disappeared when he was eighteen, presumably he was kidnapped since he had been sent death threats, no one ever found his body though. Finally there was Prince Mikhailo, today was the day he would choose a wife. Ian had seen him before, in portraits and in parades, though, outside of that he was never spotted. He stuck close to his sister and his father, always at his right side. He looked pained in portraits, never quite happy, never quite calm either. He looked so dark and sad, not as if he were about to cry, he looked expressionless. He just stood there, silently, occasionally glancing down at his father on the throne. 

A loud bell snapped Ian out of his long walk down memory lane and the crowds around the door started ushering in and he heard music start to play. Ian smiled and moved to join him, still in his guard attire. He had been told to do crowd control, just an extra pair of eyes, he could just relax and enjoy the festivities. 

\---

Mickey wiped his eyes clean of tears before he looked at himself in the mirror. Silently, he wished for Mandy to come back and console him the best way she knows how. 

His outfit was scratchy, the texture on his skin made him want to hurl and the cloth hugged his stomach too tightly. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, letting the air coast through him. He swallowed thick and touched his face. His cheeks were still damp but not noticeable in his reflection. He bathed in the silence and memorized it, wanting every second to last before the inevitable. 

Then he heard his father scream and he felt gutted. The scream came from down the hall he knew. The dining room. It was a scream he knew all too well. A familiar fear scraped his insides and invaded his body. 

He exited his room and walked down the decorated halls. There were portraits hung along the stone showing the royal family. There was one of Mickey and Mandy when they were only children, their cheeks plump and their eyes young. They clung to each other in the picture, arms entwined and shoulders squished together. He remembers when it was made, it was hard for them both to sit still being only five. Their father yelled and screamed at them everytime they moved until eventually they gave way. Mickey always thought it was funny how his father didn’t need to ask the painter to leave out the dark bruises already forming under his eyes. 

At the end of the hall he turned and was immediately met with the doors to the private dining room. His father sat at the end of the table surrounded by food and servants awaiting their majesty. 

One of the servants, a thin girl with long, wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes stood next to him. He knew her well: Fiona Gallagher. 

\---

Mickey’s father was away from the castle so he had taken it upon himself to run around and play hide and seek with his sister. His father never allowed them to play like that. Anytime they would, he would get angry. More angry than he would with Mama when she bumped into him. And Mama couldn’t walk on that leg for about a week after that. So, he and Mandy decided that they would play when Father wasn’t here. 

At that moment, he had been looking for Mandy in the kitchen. She would always hide in the places they were never allowed to be in when Father was there. It seemed to be a silent rebellion that Mickey liked to indulge. That when he bumped into a large mass when he wasn’t watching where he was going. He fell to the ground and, out of instinct, covered his face with his hands, worried that Father might be back. 

Instead of a rough growl, he heard a soft female voice ask if he was alright. He peaked through his elbows still covering his face and saw one of the servants crouching beside him. She was tall and had wavy brown hair, her eyes were a soft brown and held genuine concern in them. 

He nodded and removed his arms from his face. She held out a hand and he took it, he got up to his feet and launched into the apologies that Mama always taught him to say when he bumped into someone. (he never used them on Father though, they never worked on him.) 

She laughed lightly and said that it was alright. He stared at her, she looked young. She looked Iggy’s age at least. He started to recognize her from around the castle, he had never asked for her name though so he decided to declare his in the hopes that they could be friends. 

“My name is Mickey Milkovich of the Thouth Kingdom,” he slurred the word South and winced. He shook his head and tried to start again when the woman chuckled and cut him off. 

“I know who you are. I’m Fiona. Of the Gallaghers if you want to be formal ‘bout it.” She spoke with a slight accent. She leaned down towards him and stuck out her hand which he promptly took. He shook it hard, he was proud of his new handshake, he had been practicing with Mandy all week and wanted to impress Father. They had started to talk about what she had been doing before Mickey barreled into her. He told her he was playing hide and seek and she told him she was making bread. He tried to peak over the counter at the dough and she asked if he wanted to help her. He nodded and forgot all about finding Mandy. He wanted to make bread with the nice woman. 

His curiosity got the best of him and he started asking questions about her. Fiona surprisingly answered all of his rambling questions. She softly instructed him to be careful around the oven and told him what to do with the soft dough in his small hands. 

Eventually though, Mandy came and found him, she had cursed him for not finding her and begrudgingly asked what he was doing. He told her all about Fiona and asked if Mandy could help with making bread. Fiona frowned and said that they were all done and that she needed to get home to her children. Mickey and Mandy furrowed their eyebrows and questioned why she didn’t live in the castle like other servants and she answered with a strange mix of sadness and pride that she needed to take care of her kids but that tomorrow both of the siblings could help her with the food. She ruffled Mickey’s hair and winked at Mandy and she left. The siblings could barely sleep; they were so excited for tomorrow. 

\---

Apparently Fiona only worked in the kitchen occasionally. She told them she worked multiple jobs and that she provided for five children at home. Mickey never met them but he always thought about how lucky they were to have someone so warm and caring. 

Fiona gave him a small smile when he entered the room though there was a note of sympathy in her eyes. They were encouraging yet understanding. Mickey tried to return it but he couldn’t force himself to so he returned his gaze to his father. The king looked up at him and scowled. 

“There you are. Sit and wait,” he said between sloppy and loud bites of his breakfast. 

Mickey did as he was instructed. Terry waved Fiona away and she scurried back into the kitchen. He sat beside his father and looked straight ahead at the wall until Terry spoke up again. 

“Today is important. You get out there and you smile and wave and pretend that you like it, you hear me?”

Mickey nodded, “How many people will I have to choose from?” 

“You don’t get a choice.”

Mickey’s heart dropped and he spun his head toward his father, “What?” 

The king snapped his head back to him and asked, “Do you have a problem?” 

Mickey looked back down at his hands and shook his head. He counted the scars on the back of hand slowly. 

1, 2, 3, 4

1, 2, 3, 4 

1, 2, 3, 4

“She’s a red headed russian. Her name is Svetlana Yevgenivna. You’ll know her when you see her. You pick her and you don’t complain about it. Me and her old man have a deal between us where you get a wife, she gets a husband, and we keep our weapons deal our little secret.”

Mickey nodded again even though there was nothing to agree to. He knew his father’s dirty business. Their ‘empire’, as his father called it, ran on the deals his father had created with other kingdoms. The crime rates were high and were meant to be kept that way. People need to be scared, knights need to be cowardly and corrupt, and the royals need to stay royal. As the next in line, he had to know about the system but it never sat right with him. 

“Before the ceremony, you need to head down the cells. There is some business I need done to this peasant who refused to pay me back for some services we provided.”

Mickey nodded. This was routine but if it was something small, the King would just have a knight do it. If it was something big, personal, he would have one of his sons do it. Either as a punishment or out of convenience. 

He would have breakfast, break someone’s leg, then marry a woman. 

He pushed in on an old scar to remind himself what happens when he cries in front of the King. 


	2. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian makes some poor decisions and discovers something he wished he didnt while Mickey finds himself in a difficult position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two mentons of sexual assault so just be safe <3

Ian looked around at the decor inside the castle. A warm gold glow filled the room from the lights above the ballroom. Lining the walls were stands on top of which were vases filled with three purple flowers. He remembered Debbie showing him flowers that looked quite like those, she called them ‘Stargazer Lilies’, though personally Ian couldn’t really tell. At the end of the room was a platform where three thrones sat center stage. All Ian could hear was the upbeat festive music and the party goers mingling and laughing loudly. 

One in particular kept glancing back at Ian. He was an older man with greying hair, he was tall and built, his clothing fairly tight fitting. He was wearing a white shirt underneath a black doubet with a gold hem indicating his wealth. The man cast hooded glances back at Ian that he knew well. Ian smiled even though he wasn’t going to pursue him. It was nice to know that even when he wasn’t trying, he drew attention. He winked at the man and moved on to the other end of the room where people had started dancing. He watched them absentmindedly for several minutes before the man from before had past by him, he gave a quick smile and gestured with his head to follow him as he ducked down a hallway

Ian thought for a moment and found himself intrigued. He supposed that there were enough guards in the room that, if something were to go awry, everyone would be perfectly safe if he left for a few minutes to self-indulge. He followed the other man down the hall without a second thought but he found that man had disappeared. 

He shrugged and continued to walk it, hoping the man had just turned down another corner. Ian turned down another hallway and walked down the stairs that he was immediately met by. The hallway from there seemed to extend even further than the last, he felt as though he had been walking for miles. Instead of turning around though, he only furrowed his eyebrows and continued down the seemingly endless hallway. 

Then out of nowhere, the man jumped out from behind a pillar. Ian gasped and flinched backward, his hand flying yo his sword at his waist. The man put his hands up in the air, he giggled. 

“Sorry if I scared you, my dear. My name is Edward, though most friends call me Ned, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” Edward leaned down, took Ian’s hand and kissed it. 

“How forward,” Ian said in a bored tone, unimpressed with the way the man was trying way too hard to be flirty. He knew his type, he had been there and done that. He pulled his hand away and shifted from one leg to the other, curious to see what show Edward puts on next. 

To Ian’s disappointment, Ned grabbed onto Ian’s waist and pulled him in closer. Edward’s hands against even his armor made his skin crawl and in that moment he decided the game wasn’t fun anymore. He tried to pull back but Ned’s grip got tighter and more painful where he moved one hand from his waist up to his neck, his nails digging into the flesh there. Ned laughed and breathed in Ian’s face. Fear surgered through Ian momentarily as he smelled beer on his breath. Ian knew he had a blade and he knew he could use if necessary but what could he say he actually had to use it? That he decided to abandon his post to go hook up with another man.? 

“What? You don’t want to have fun?” 

At that point Ian decided what his safest option was. He dug his nails into Ned’s bicep and brought his knee up hard to his stomach. Ned cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Ian backed away from him when Ned got up. His hand on the hilt of his sword, he stood his ground. 

“Fucking tease,” Ned growled and turned back to the ball room. 

Ian caught his breath, he wasn’t going back into the ballroom yet. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to see that man's face ever again, especially not this soon. So, he turned down toward the corridor he was traveling down before the man had jumped out at him. 

The further he walked, the darker the hallway became. The light was starting to diminish but he carried on feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He came to another staircase descending down into endless tenebrosity. He stared into the darkness, fear and curiosity started to battle in his body. He should just turn around, go back to the party, do his job, maybe find someone else to play with for a while to take his mind off of Edward. He doesn’t have to explore, it’s not his home, it shouldn’t matter to him. He doesn’t need to descend into the shadows and discover what was hiding there. He gripped his sword at his waist and waited. 

Then, out of the darkness, came a blood curdling scream that shook Ian to his core. 

He leapt down the stairs and followed the sound, his heart pumping and his mind racing. It was another passage way, this time only a few candles hung along the walls that lit his way. At the end of the wormhole he saw two figures. One was a short shadowy mass that was standing over the second dark figure, the second looked like a man crawling on the ground. 

“Stop! Turn around and put your hands in the air!” Ian yelled and drew his blade. The standing figure jumped and turned around, now brandishing a weapon that Ian hadn’t seen before. Now facing the light, Ian could see the figure's face. 

Prince Mikhailo Milkovich. 

\---

Mickey finished his breakfast after waiting for thirty minutes for Mandy and his older brothers to arrive in the dining hall. His stomach rumbled as he watched his father shove food into his mouth and slobber over himself. Saliva dripped over his chin and onto the dining table the whole time and as disgusting it was, Mickey couldn’t look away. It was only until Mandy cracked open the door and sat down, quickly followed by their brothers, that he was able to relax and fill his stomach to his heart's content. 

After breakfast though, Mickey walked around the castle for a few minutes, pretending to have a destination until he eventually figured he shouldn’t prolong the inevitable so he followed his fathers instructions and made his way down to the dungeons. On the way though he was stopped by the sounds of muffled sobs coming from what he always knew as a closet. He hesitantly reached toward the door handle and pushed it open. 

There, on the ground, with her silky dress dirtied from the floor and her head tucked into her arms, was his sister. He crouched down beside her and put a hand on her shaky back. She breathed in but it was interrupted with a messy hiccup. She lifted her head and scowled at her brother, trying to regain any kind of composure. 

Mickey sucked in a breath when he saw her face. There was blood pooling at the top of her forehead and a bruise forming around. Her mascara had started to run down her face so there were dark waterfalls of black stemming from each of her eyes. He tried not to let his shock show, knowing that would only anger his sister. He knew better than anyone how that pity felt. 

“What do you want?” She said with venom that was undermined by another hiccup. 

“Nothing, snowflake. You look like a mess, you know that?” 

She barked out a laugh. He looked down at the ground and her dress caught his eye again. It was ripped up the side showing her pale leg where scratches were clearly visible. His stomach dropped. 

“He mess with you again?” 

Mandy nodded and shrugged, “Not like it’s anything new. You guys left and Fiona was still in the kitchen. Started to get handsy so shoved him off. Think you can guess how much he liked that, huh?” She flipped her blood soaked hair out of her eyes. Mickey felt his blood boil and his stomach churn. 

“Stay here, I’ll go get you something to clean that up with-” 

“Don’t. Fiona’s already on her way. She followed me out and freaked out when she saw it. Couldn’t talk her out of it.”

There was silence between them for a minute before Mickey spoke softly, “Do you want me to stay, Mands?” 

She shoved his hand away from her back, “God, stop being mushy. Just go, idiot.” 

He got up and cast one last look toward his sister. There may only be a year or two between them but right now looks so small, curled in on herself, hiding from the furry fueled fists of the King. 

He turned and shut the door. He passed Fiona on the way, she was clearly trying to look cool but was obviously rushed. She was carrying bandages, a washcloth, and a new dress that he knew to be Mandys. He nodded at her as she passed but she didn’t notice him, panic clear in her eyes. 

Even though he knew Mandy would hate the pity Fiona would show her, it was nice to know that there was still someone in the world who hadn’t been exposed to the same horrors as they have, at least not the same kind. It keeps things in balance he supposed. 

He continued on his path towards the dungeon where he was sure there was someone who was about to be very sorry for whatever they did to King Terence. 

The walk down was always the best part - or the least horrible part. It was dark and peaceful, a calm before a disastrous storm. Moisture from the ceiling started to drip to create a soft rain like effect that made Mickey want to close his eyes. 

Then he heard a groan from deep within the cave-like structure. It was a man's voice, deep and gravely, and Mickey took a wild stab that it was the man he had come down here for. He sighed and walked forward, the light from the candles on the wall shined through the bars that held a man who was middle aged and thin. He groaned louder when Mickey approached the makeshift jail cell. 

“Yeah, yeah, stop whining,” Mickey grabbed the knife that had been laying on the ground a good distance away from the cage and the key that hung up right above it. 

The man grunted and moved slightly in the darkness as Mickey unlocked the cell. 

“Get up,” Mickey demanded in a detached tone.

“Please. Don’t.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes, “You don’t even know what’s happening. Just don’t talk, it’ll be easier.”

“I know what happens down here. I know what this family does to people.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes and decided not to listen to ramblings of the man. 

The man stood up and came toward the light. He limped slightly and Mickey guessed that his father had already dealt with him, but wanted Mickey to finish the job. His mouth went dry but he grabbed the man's bicep and pulled him out into the light. 

He could see now that there was dried blood all down his thigh and forehead. A strong stench suddenly hit him and he gagged violently, “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” the man laughed bitterly, “The King was already down here. Said he would send someone else to deal with it. Figured it would be a guard, not his own son. Doesn’t that bother you? Don’t feel any remorse? Mercy?” The man’s voice raised. 

Mickey clenched his jaw, “Shut up.” 

“Your own father would send his son to do such a horrible thing. What parent would force a child, their own no less, to have that on their conscience?”

“I said shut up,” Mickey felt tears sting his eyes, he wasn’t sure why this was different. Every other time he had been sent to do this, it disgusted him but he did it, he always followed the instructions. It kept the King off his back and their families secrets just that. Win-win. Mickey swallowed the tears and doubt and straightened up. 

It wasn’t different. It will never be different. 

The man spoke again, “You have to feel something, boy. Or are you just as heartless as your father?”

Mickey kicked the man’s knee and he toppled over in pain, He let out a scream and Mickey knew he had hit the injury the man had gotten from his father. 

He stepped over him, back facing the hallway. His breath was coming in and out harshly. He felt as though there was an angel and a devil on each shoulder. The devil tells him in a gruff, familiar voice to just do it, get it over with, be obedient. The angel starts to scream at him just as loudly. It keeps telling him to-

“Stop! Turn around and put your hands in the air!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Mandy are little ooc with each other but I blame that on the shameless writers never allowing them to be soft for each other 💅 also I will probably update this again tomorrow or the next, I'm trying to establish a nice schedule that works with school and work. Criticism is welcome as always!


	3. But Satisfaction Brought it Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fights, panic attacks, and new perspectives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how I said I would post super soon then waited two weeks, love that for me. Mention of blood in this chapter, not super graphic but still. Mickey also has a small panic attack

Mickey spun around to see a red-headed knight brandishing his weapon at him. He also realized he was still holding the knife. He gripped it tightly, not sure of his plan at this point. 

The knight was still shocked to see his prince leaning over an injured man holding a knife, ready to kill. It was clear what the picture was, how this looked. The knight's mouth fell open and his soft, pale face was frozen. The light from the candles shown across his face and Mickey could see freckles dotting across his face. His green eyes were reflecting the gold from the light and Mickey couldn’t stop staring. He shook his head and leaped forward at him to tackle him to the ground. 

His sword fell to the ground with a clatter and Mickey wrestled the man’s strong arms down, he pinned his wrists onto the floor and held them there, the knife still awkwardly in his hands. 

The knight kicked upward and twisted his wrists making Mickey fall backward onto the ground as he gritted his teeth in pain. His own knife joined the sword on the ground. They both scrambled to get up. The knight's armor got his way slightly so Mickey had the upper hand. He grabbed the knight's sword and kicked his own knife down the hall. He took a moment to catch his breath and looked back to the knight still on the ground in the same position as the prisoner

Mickey looked over where the prisoner should have but he wasn’t there. He looked around and there was fresh blood splattered on the ground leading down the corridor. Mickey’s blood went cold and his heart began to race _ , no, no, no, no, no _ . 

The knight huffed out a laugh and winced out in pain.

“Yeah, that’s what you get,” Mickey, completely rage-filled, grabbed the back of the knight's head and picked him, throwing him into the jail cell. The knight tried to fight but he had hurt his arm in the scuffle. He tried to push Mickey away but he was too weak. He didn’t feel it. 

That might actually be due in part to the fact that Mickey felt murderous and terrified. His nerve endings were on fire and he didn’t know what to do. 

He shut the cage and pushed his body against it as the knight struggled to fight back. He gingerly leaned down to retrieve the key that he didn’t remember he dropped. He locked the cage and stepped back, breathing hard. He threw the key behind him, he couldn’t be bothered with organization right. He dropped the sword and vaguely heard the clatter 

“Hey!” the knight called, “You can’t just leave me in here.”

Mickey shook his head and left. He needed to find the runaway prisoner. He needed to get cleaned up. He needed to deal with the knight he just took hostage. 

He counted the scars of the back of his hand again, “1, 2, 3, 4,”

He repeated it in his head and breathed in and out along with the numbers. 

_ Okay,  _ he thought, _ I can do this.  _

First, he needed to clean up. He can’t walk around the castle covered in blood and bruises. Second, he needed to look for the escapee, Third, he could deal with the knight. 

_ Shit!  _ The ceremony. He needed to go back up to the ceremony, it would start soon. Father would be wondering where he was and he couldn’t say that he was dealing with the prisoner he let escape on his watch. 

He started running and tried to ignore the panic setting in his body. His chest was tight and his breathing was shallow but he couldn’t fix that right now.

He bolted down the hallway and up the stairs, thankful he didn’t run into someone on his way. He ran to his room and quickly grabbed a towel, running it under cold water to clean the drying blood. Then he ran to get clothes and changed faster than he ever has before.

_ Okay, step one complete.  _

Now he needed to start looking. The sun was in the beginning phases of setting so he knew he only had a few hours to find him. He couldn’t have gotten far, not unless he knew the castle like the back of his hand. The only people who did were the ones who lived there their entire lives like Mickey. 

He raced to check every nook and cranny he could think of. He checked the bathrooms, the ballroom, the closets, each bedroom. 

_ The kitchen.  _

He thought about who would be in there at this time. Hopefully only Fiona. So he marched toward the private kitchen. To his luck, only Fiona was sitting on the bench, she was looking down at her shoes thoughtfully. 

“Hello, Fiona.” He said, keeping the panic out of his voice.

Fiona’s head shot up and she looked over at Mickey with a bright smile, “Hi, Mikhailo, what are you doing here? The food is all done but if you wanted to help, you could help me clean the dishes-” 

“Not here for that, no,” Mickey said, cutting her off.

Fiona looked taken aback. She nodded awkwardly as Mickey continued.

“I was wondering if anyone had passed through here. Or if you heard anyone pass by?” Mickey questioned her and squinted his eyes as he looked around. 

Fiona looked thoughtful for a few seconds, “Well, no one came in here. I did hear some quick footsteps I think if that helps. They went down that way,” she pointed straight forward to indicate that they continued down the hall. 

Mickey gasped and said, “Oh thank God. It helps so much, thank you,” he heard Fiona mutter a sad little, “no problem” as he was leaving. Another thing he would deal with later. 

He hurried down the hall and as he got closer to the end, he heard shuffling. 

He slowed his steps, careful not to alarm the prisoner of his presence. He rounded the corner quickly.

It wasn’t the prisoner. In fact, it was his sister with her arms around a man’s neck, kissing him passionately. 

“What the fuck?” He cried out. Mandy and the man, a boy who looked about his own age and height with curly brownish hair and blue eyes. Mandy groaned and yelled. 

What the hell do you want, shitface?” Mandy pulled away from whoever-the-fuck and looked at Mickey’s ruffled demeanor. 

“Did you see anyone come this way? At all? Did you hear anyone?”

Mandy and whoever-the-fuck shook their heads, “What’s your problem, Mick?” 

“Mandy, may I speak to you alone please?” He said through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes and patted whoever-the-fucks chest as she detached from his body and walked over to Mickey. He grabbed her and spun her around the corner he popped out of.

“I did something bad. Really, really bad. As in, Father is gonna behead me for this kind of bad.”

Mandy squinted but he knew she was taking this seriously. When it came to their father, they always did, “What happened, Mickey?” 

“A prisoner escaped. On my watch.” 

Her eyes got big and her mouth gaped, “Okay, we can figure this out. We’ll start looking, they couldn’t have gotten far, right?” 

Mickey shook his head, “That’s what I thought but I've looked everywhere," he paused, "There is something else-" 

The person who Mandy had just been wrapped around stepped around the corner and looked at Mandy. Mickey could see why Mandy picked him, he caught himself staring and shook his head, fingernails digging into his palms. He looked over at Mandy who shared the same expression. 

“Should I go?” He glanced back down the hallway, “I wanted to catch up with my brother later so…” 

“No, no! Stay, this won’t take long,” Mandy said hurriedly, she shot him a smile before turning back to her brother. 

Mickey rolled his eyes and decided that this wasn’t worth getting Mandy involved. He turned away and flipped off his sister, not caring that there was a civilian that could see him. He ran along the hallway and checked every room until eventually he collapsed onto the floor and felt tears well up in his eyes. He told himself not to, not to be a pussy, man up and deal with it. He wiped his face and rubbed his cheek. Then, he heard bells chime and he knew that the ceremony was about to start. Father would be looking for him if he didn’t get up soon.

He counted the silver scars on the back of his hand again and slowed his breathing.

_ 1, 2, 3, 4 _

_ 1, 2, 3, 4 _

He mustered all the strength that he could and stood up, straightening himself out. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. Mickey’s mind went blank and he walked back down to the ballroom. 

\---

Ian felt like he swallowed fire, he couldn’t scream anymore. His fingernails were bleeding from scratching at the bars of the cage he had pushed in. It was almost laughable, he was a knight, he was supposed to be strong. Tears fell down his cheeks as he fell to the damp floor and listened to the soft dripping. At least the prisoner that man escaped, he had to focus on that. Hopefully, the man got out without alerting the prince. He guessed he had been wrong about Prince Mikhailo. 

Ian curled in on himself and sobbed silently. He thought about his older sister, Fiona, and his older brother, Lip. He wondered if he would ever see them again. He doubted anyone had seen him walk away from his post. Dreading what would happen when Mikhailo comes back, Ian tried to slow his breathing and think of a way out. 

He heard bells chime above him. The ceremony would start soon, at least the Prince would be busy for a while. He moved himself to sit upright and look at his surroundings. When they were younger, the knight in training, learning combat, Ian was taught to always survey his surroundings. 

There were only two things in the make-shift jail cell. In one corner was a silver toilet that he hoped he would never have to use, beside him, in the other corner, pushed against the wall, was a bed. Or what passed like a bed in this dark hell hole. There were no sheets or pillows, just a dirty, stained mattress lifted off the bed by chains connected to this wall. Ian had known his fair share of mysteriously stained mattresses but it still made Ian blanch. He wondered how many people had been kept down here, how many people had the Prince tortured and killed down here. He sneered at the dark red-brown stains that were scattered around the cell.

_ Focus. _

Ian shook his head and moved to look under the bed. It was even more disgusting underneath and he was lucky he hadn’t eaten too much or he would have been leaned over the side of the toilet by now. He ignored the stains and grotesque looking lumps of bloody masses and looked at the three wooden slats keeping the bed sturdy. 

He smirked.

He fully shuffled underneath it and kicked the slats until the wood came loose. The middle one popped out of its place and down onto Ian. He heard footsteps coming down the hall.

He quickly rolled out from under the bed and grabbed the slat. Bolting upright, he placed the wooden slat on the ground and slammed his foot down onto the middle section, breaking it in two. The part he held was nothing like his sword, it was light and wide and awkward to hold but he thrust the jagged end forward in front of him and examined it quickly.

_ This will do. _

Ian dropped to the floor and placed the weapon behind him, still holding it in his hand. The footsteps were quickly approaching. They weren’t heavy footfalls but instead a slight clanking sound. He squinted into the darkness in front of him, down the black hallway. 

Slowly a figure emerged into the light. It was a young woman in a silky dark purple gown, she had long black pushed up into a ponytail, her features were similar to the Prince’s. 

Ian then recognized this as the only Princess. Amanda. His eyes widened, maybe he wouldn’t need to fight his way out.

Amanda stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked at him. She didn’t look concerned though, she simply looked at him like she was checking on something.

“I guess he figured it out then,” she shrugged and turned around to leave. 

“Wait,” he called after her.

She stopped and turned, cocking out her hip, “What? Do you need more water or something?” 

Her expression was blank, not as full of concern as he would have appreciated. She must be a part of it. 

“Yes, I need water. Please.” Ian hadn’t been there for long but his throat was dry and coarse from screaming and there was no water or food in the cell. 

This time, there was a flash of concern, genuine emotion. She quickly snapped back into her original stance and spoke.

“Fine. Be back in a bit.” She sauntered back down the hallway and disappeared into the darkness. Ian swallowed. He heard distant music playing above him. The ceremony has started. 

God help the poor woman the Prince chooses to marry. 

\---

Fiona rubbed her face with her wet hands. She breathed out heavily, picking up a dry towel. The dishes were done, the meals were cooked, she only needed to put away the materials but she was exhausted. Her eyelids were drooping and her bones were weighed down by the two hours of sleep she had gotten. She found it hard to keep her eyes open.

When Mikhailo had come by, she hoped he would help. He and his sister loved to help her. It was nice, having those kids around her while she worked (though she would be lying if she said that she didn’t get tired of constantly looking after children). 

She wanted to head home. Debbie would be getting tired of babysitting Liam and Carl. She would have asked Lip if she knew where he ran off to and Ian was working today. Even though there was no other option, she still felt guilt well up inside her at the idea of making her little sister carry so much responsibility. 

Fiona started to move to tidy up her area but she heard the door creak behind her. She turned around, hoping it would be Mikhailo or Amanda, coming back to help. 

Instead, she was met by a woman. She was wearing a long white gown and a fluffy cape. Her long brown-red hair fell down her shoulders and contrasted with the colorlessness of her dress. The woman smirked at Fiona and spoke in a thick Russian accent. 

“I seemed to have gotten lost. Help?” 

Fiona’s mouth went dry and she nodded, “Yeah, I can help. I’m Fiona by the way. I assume you were going to the ceremony,” she gestured to the woman's eccentric gown. 

The Russian nodded, “Yes. I wandered out of ballroom. Can’t find my way.” 

The Russian looked Fiona up and down, surveying her. She felt like prey being stalked by a lion. 

Then the Russian licked her lips and smirked at her and suddenly her mouth went dry. 

“Are you participating in ceremony?” the woman asked. 

Fiona barked out a laugh and shook her head, “No. God no.” 

The Russian tilted her head, trying to maintain the eye contact that Fiona couldn’t bring herself to keep, “Why not? Pretty girl like yourself would certainly be made Queen,” she moved closer, swaying her hips slightly. 

Fiona felt her face get hot and she forced herself to continue talking, “That’s- that’s awfully kind of you but that’s not the main reason. I know the Prince who’s choosing, he’s like a little brother. That would just be weird. Besides, even if it were someone else, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“I have a family at home. Not biological children though. My siblings, I take care of. I couldn’t leave them like that.”

The Russians' eyes went cold for a moment before snapping back into their original predatory gaze, “Interesting.”

Fiona stared at her, “What’s interesting?”

“Nothing,  _ milaya _ ”

Bells rang throughout the castle signifying the ceremony would begin shortly. 

The woman didn’t seem bothered, she simply turned around and walked away. 

“Wait, don’t you need directions?”

“Ah, miracle, I remember now.” She waved her hand, “Goodbye, for now, Fiona, my  _ milaya _ .” 

“Good luck!” She shouted after her. 

“Do not need luck”

She walked out of the door and disappeared.  _ Milaya _ . She wondered what the word meant. She shook her head and brought a hand up to her face, it still felt hot. She could feel the heat pouring off her body. She swallowed thick and breathed out a hysterical laugh. How odd, she thought.

She wondered if maybe she should follow. Go to the ceremony and watch as this mysterious nameless woman competes for a stranger's attention. 

Nameless.

She had forgotten to get the woman's name. Whoever she was, she was sure to get the prince's attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I made Fiona a lesbian

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. I welcome criticism so feel free to tell me what you do and don't like about. <3


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